


All That Is Gold

by Cyriae



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alchemy Is Just Magic This Time, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fair Warning This Will Likely Be Greedling-centric Once It Gets Going, Father Is Evil (To No One's Surprise), Gen, Gondor equals Amestris, I Am Dragging Nuance Into Tolkien's Moral Framework If It Kills Me, LotR AU, Minor Swearing, The Elrics Get Dragged Into Everyone's Problems Regardless Of The Universe, The Kingdom of Men Ruins Everything For Everyone, Xing is Elves off to the East somewhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-12-26 15:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18285350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyriae/pseuds/Cyriae
Summary: In the grand tradition of short people solving potentially world-ending problems, dwarven brothers Ed and Al are saddled with fixing the darkness growing in the realm of Gondor. With some friends.This fic is the cast of Fullmetal Alchemist in the setting of Lord of the Rings, with races, occupations, and skills tweaked to fit the setting. Rings may or may not be involved.





	1. Preface

Dear friends, while this land may be known to you, its history is likely changed from what you may find familiar. It is true, that many centuries ago one Lord of the Rings waged war against the free peoples of Middle Earth and had the ring cut from his finger by a King of Men; however, the will of men did not fail that day, and the One Ring was cast unto the fires from which it came, to the monumental relief of all elven lords present.

The Shadow banished and his servants destroyed, those dark times soon passed into legend. Many who would be considered custodians of Middle Earth chose to pass into the West, or indeed never left it, believing they were unneeded, content to let the next Age of Men take care of itself. Whether they were right remains to be seen.

And so the wheel turns, and the lines of kings faded. We find ourselves now in a land ruled by stewards and advisors, a land without Wizards and where the Eldar are most places few and far between. But this is not a land bereft of magic, and those who can, mortal and immortal alike, still take the roles of sorcerers and mages.

Among their ranks fall two boys, still considered children by their people, yet each bearing a too-great burden on their heart as they quest to regain what was lost. It is with them we begin our journey.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the exception of the deities, there will likely not be any canon Lotr characters in this fic. For the purposes of this fic everyone has either gone to the Undying Lands, was never born, or is off somewhere far away doing something unimportant. This is primarily to spare Gandalf from grievous injury upon mistaking Ed for a hobbit and attempting to give him an Important Quest. 
> 
> Anyways. 
> 
> Please Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elric Brothers arrive at the capital of Gondor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!

“So this is Minas Tirith?” The shorter of a pair of brothers shielded his eyes from the sun, pausing just inside the main gate to squint up at the terraced city. “How tacky.” He shifted his blazing red cloak under his pack. “There’s a nice mountain  _ right there, _ and they had to build along the cliff like a bunch of shore birds instead of using the bounteous space beneath the stone.”

“Some people like the sun, brother.” The taller sibling’s voice echoed slightly inside his suit of armor.

“Sometimes people are wrong-“

“Look mama, is that a hobbit?”

A young child’s shrill voice cut through the bustle of commerce through the gate, setting the veins at the blond boy’s temples throbbing.

“WHO YOU CALLING A HOBBIT, YOU-“

“Brother please, we just got here-“

“Pardon me, but would you happen to be the Elric brothers?”

A new voice interrupted the armored brother’s attempts to restrain his sibling’s vengeful struggling, and helm and head turned to face the newcomer.

“Who’s asking?” The shorter brother extricated himself from the armored grip, brushing himself off with most exaggerated dignity.

“Guardsman Breda, at your service.” A stocky man in Gondorian military garb gave the brothers a lazy salute with a half-eaten meat pie of some sort. “Colonel Mustang said to be on the lookout for a pair of dwarves, one armored and one beardless.”

“Did he now-“

“That is certainly us! Pleasure to meet you- You may call me Al, and my brother is Ed.”

“The pleasure is mine,” the guard replied around a mouthful of pastry. “If you’ll kindly follow me, the colonel will see you settled in.”

“He hasn’t forgotten our deal, has he?” Ed grumbled.

The man chuckled. “Oh, I doubt that very much. A pair of dwarven mages in his retinue would be quite the feather in his cap, after all.”

“If he thinks I’m going to  _ serve _ under him-“

“So which way to the colonel, Guardsman?” Al cut through his brother’s continued grumbling.

Breda smirked as he gestured skyward, indicating the highest level of the city perched far above them. “This way, my good Dwarf.”

And so they began ascending the tiered city, the littler brother resuming his griping on the city planning.

~~~

Inside a small citadel room, the lack of quill scratching failed to echo off the walls as the occupant studiously ignored his paperwork, a calmness only broken by the sounds of sturdy dwarven boots stomping rapidly closer before kicking the stone door open with a heavy  **Thud.**

“Hey Campfire Wizard! I’m here! I’ve upheld my end of the deal, now where is that archive access you promised?”

The man at the oak desk raised an eyebrow. “Ah Elric, you’ve arrived. I was expecting you a week ago.”

“Yeah well, I hate horses.”

“Is that so. Thank you, Guardsman.” Mustang inclined his head at his subordinate leaning against the doorframe.

Breda saluted before turning back out to the hall, letting the door fall shut behind him. A uniformed woman strode out of an adjoining room and surveyed the newcomers.

“What’s this sir, visitors? What a pity, they shall interfere with your reports, the ones requested be completed ere yesterday by the scribes?”

“Ah Lieutenant, how kind of you to be concerned. These are the Elric brothers, you remember them. Brothers, this is Lieutenant Hawkeye, Fionhend. She was with me the first time we, er, met. My second in command, and a skilled warrior in battle; I could ask for no finer markswoman-“

“Wait, you mean to tell me your name and title is ‘Lieutenant Hawkeye, the  _ Eye _ of the  _ Hawk?’ _ ”

The colonel frowned at the interruption, but Hawkeye inclined her head. “Astute observation,” she replied, with the barest trace of a hint of sarcasm. “I take it you can speak Sindrain?”

Ed could feel the implied curiosity.  _ A dwarf? _

“Hmph, don’t expect me to use it, it’s not by choice. I hate elvish.”

“I think I am beginning to sense a pattern-“

“Oh desist your yammering, Ash Hands. So when are you going to fulfill your end of the deal?”

“Hmm I am unsure, I have quite a lot of writing to accomplish today, and I would hate to interrupt all the progress I have made.”

Ed raised an eyebrow at the nearly untouched piles of paperwork littering the desk’s polished surface. He could have sworn the lieutenant also shot the desk a judgmental look from her flanking position.     

Ignoring them both, Mustang stretched. “Although I suppose with such  _ esteemed  _ guests, I could make an exception.” He rose from his chair and strode past Al, who’d been silently enjoying the novelty of not being the oddest person in the room.

~~~

“Of course, you will still need to meet the Steward in the future.”

“Right, so you can parade Al and I around and improve your precious little reputation to Brandy or whoever.”

“Bradley.”

“Right.”

“A word of advice, you would likely do well to address him as ‘Lord Steward King Bradley’” when you approach him.”

Ed opened his mouth to rebuke the notion he would ever show deference to any ruler of Men, but became distracted. “’King?’ Is he not merely the steward?”

“Oh yes, he is. ‘King’ is his given name.”

Ed wrinkled his nose in confusion as he sought to comprehend this new development. “What mother names her child ‘King??’ In Westron, no less. Is that not exceedingly arrogant?”

Mustang shrugged, and Ed privately decided that humans should no longer be allowed to name anything ever.

“Colonel Mustang!” A thunderous voice rolled over the small entourage. “Are these the dwarves you spoke of?”

Ed turned to behold the largest man he had ever seen looming over him, his mustachioed visage uncomfortably close. He stumbled backwards into his brother, instinctively raising his fists to the presumed threat.

“Ah Captain Armstrong! Anything interesting happen in Osgiliath today?”

Captain Armstrong straightened, and Ed wagered that Al’s armor would barely breach the man’s broad shoulders. He steadfastly ignored the relation of his own height to the man’s waist.

“Why Colonel, each day brings new beautiful sights and smells to grace my senses!” The bald behemoth struck a pose with flourish. “Just today, not one but three separate spice merchants brought their ships to harbor! Such quantities of ginger I have never seen in my life…”   

The colonel had “regret” inscribed plain as day on his face. Unfortunately, Ed’s sniggering brought the emoting man’s attention back around.

“But where are my manners! Greetings my young dwarves, I am Captain Alex Armstrong, Bellranc.” He flexed mightily in what Ed supposed might substitute as a bow for him. “I am most honored to make your acquaintance.”

“Your name is ‘Armstrong, Strong of Arm-?”

Al cut off his brother’s incredulous outburst. “We are most honored as well, Captain. I am Al, and my brother is Ed.”

“Most splendid! Alas, I must attend to my duties. Farewell my friends, until we meet again!” Appearing on the verge of real tears, the colossal man saluted and resumed his journey in the opposite direction with a twirl.

“That settles it. The army of Gondor is filled with weirdos.”

“Now young Elric, Captain Armstrong will not seem so eccentric when you become more familiar.”

Al chimed in. “You are not exactly helping your case, Colonel.”

“Certainly, you mean to imply he is not the  _ strangest _ person you could meet within these walls? I suppose you are here, a mighty mage of fire whose mortal enemy is a sheaf of parchment and quill.”

“Most amusing.” The colonel and the small pulsing vein on his forehead stopped in front of a set of ornate doors. “The royal library is through here. Ordinarily, identification is required to pass inside, but I have alerted the keepers to expect you, and I should think anyone would be hard pressed to attempt an impersonation of the Elric brothers.”

Ed squinted, trying to decide if he had enough cause to claim insult from the smirking man.

Mustang continued, “You two are lucky the Steward is out on business, or I’d have you suffer my company rather longer-”

“Suffer is right,” Ed grumbled.

“-but ere he returns I see no reason you cannot begin your search of the archives. I will send one of my men to keep you company, and attend to your needs when you tire of reading for the day.”

“Yes, yes, we don’t need a nanny.” Ed pushed past Mustang and shoved open the doors, disappearing into the gloom inside.

Al gave the man a cheerful wave before following suit. “Best of luck with your paperwork, Colonel!”

Mustang was left half-returning the wave and attempting to determine what amount of the boy’s polite statement had been sarcasm.

After being ushered to the general section on “magic” by a mousy woman looking on the verge of overwork, Ed took the opportunity to denigrate another aspect of Minas Tirith: the organizational system.

“…not even alphabetical, they could at  _ least _ separate the tomes by language, but nooooo they jumble Sindrain and Westron up together like some sort of ill-made stew, to say nothing of the horrid failure to create any sort of subject arrangement understandable by anyone not utterly insane.”

Al carried a stack of books to a nearby table. “I hear you, brother. Who puts a treatise on sheepdog training next to a book on children’s nursery rhymes? Any why in the  _ botany _ section?” The taller brother was miffed enough to join in with the complaints, an endeavor he usually left to his sibling.

Ed sank into a chair opposite. “Mahal forbid this be  _ simple. _ ”

“Chin up, brother. We have time.”

“All the same, I’d hoped to be able to find what we came for and leave before the steward returns and we have to uphold the rest of Mustang’s stupid deal. I dislike the notion of being someone’s political trophy.”

“You dislike a lot of things, brother.”

“Yes, well, many things deserve it.” Ed flipped through a book with heavy silver filigree on the cover. “What do you suppose the steward is even doing, aren’t rulers of Men supposed to sit in their thrones all day and decide who to go to war with next?”

“He’s likely off inspecting some new Watching Stone or another.” A new voice spoke up behind them. The brothers turned to see a tall man leaning against a nearby shelf.

“Hmph. You must be the watchdog Mustang assigned to keep an eye on us?”

“That’s me. Guardsman Havoc, at your service.” With a surreptitious glance around the stacks the man pulled out a pipe and matchbook, igniting the pipe’s contents with practiced ease.

“Right. ‘Watching Stones?’ Are those the supposed ‘wards against dark and evil magic’ your people keep installing everywhere? Do those even…” Ed trailed off, watching the guardsman take a deep drag on his pipe. “I’m fairly certain that is not how those are supposed to be used-“

“Nonsense.” Havoc cut Ed off with a sharp puff of smoke. “Do you smoke?”

“Well no, but-“

“Then leave it to the experts.” The man met Ed’s incredulous glare with half-lidded eyes. “And to answer your question, the steward has his best mages swear by the stones, so who am I to argue? I’m not exactly a sorcerer myself, after all.”

“Tch. Then you’re of no help to us. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re busy.”

Havoc chuckled good-naturedly. “By all means, continue. I’ve no objections to being paid to stand around and smoke all day.”

“I would wager you don’t,” Ed muttered, turning back to the pile of books and scrolls littering the table and joining Al in searching for some way to regain something stolen by gods.

~~~

“Well this has been a disappointing day.” Ed and Al followed behind Havoc as he led them to their lodgings, evidently located a few tiers down. It seemed Mustang was a miser as well as lazy. It was long past when most stores closed for the night, and the sloped streets were mostly empty of passerby.

“It was only our first try, I am certain we will find something.” Al, ever the optimist.

“Good luck with that, I personally don’t see how anyone could find anything in that mess without some kind of guidance from the Valar themselves.” Havoc, ever helpful.

Ed was only half listening as he paused, brows knitting as he inspected the nearby wall of buildings.

Havoc glanced back. “Everything all right there?”

Ed tore his eyes away. “Yes, I- yes, it’s nothing.” They resumed walking in silence.

~~~

Once in the solitude of their slightly cramped quarters, Ed turned to his brother. “Did you sense it as well?”

Al nodded. “What was it, I could not tell much?”

“Exactly, I don’t think there was anything to tell. Which is what interests me.”

“Brother?”

“This city is full of old magic, messy, soggy piles seeped into the stone over thousands of years. That place there… It didn’t have any.” 

“Ah, that would explain it. What could cause that, could it have been drained?”

“Perhaps. But this is a human city, and humans are always neck deep in some scheme or another. I wager something is being hidden.”

“Hmm, with a ward or perhaps a field to cancel out the natural resonance of the magic. Why do you suppose it’s there?”

“No idea. Want to find out?”

~~~

Once sure the smoking guardsman had left them, the brothers ambled along the streets as inconspicuously as one could when half the party was in full armor, making their way back to where they had felt the disturbance.

“What do you reckon, brother?”

“Well, Al,” Ed said as he paused in front of a clearly abandoned shop nearly in the center of the magical null space, “I believe we have reached our destination.”

They sidled into the narrow alley on the side of the shop, well out of view of any night guards that might happen to be passing through. Ed placed his hands against the wall and concentrated, shaping the stone to his will and forming an opening just big enough for his brother if he crouched.

Once inside they peered through the gloom and cobwebs for anything out of the ordinary. “Still not as unclean as the library,” Ed whispered.

Failing to find anything remotely magical in what looked to be an abandoned apothecary, the brothers huddled to look for a different angle.

“Maybe the field is masking something beneath the shop?”

“I had the same thought Al, but the stone feels solid beneath my feet. The shop  _ does _ abut the mountain, perhaps…?”

Ed picked his way into the back room, Al following suit with slightly more difficulty. While his armored brother caught up, Ed thudded a metal fist against the rear wall a few times before a smile broke across his face. “I think we’ve struck gold, brother.”

“Think there’s a hidden door?”

“Like  _ we _ need such things, let me-“

“What if there are people back there?”

“Do you see this place? No one has been through here in years.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd no one else has noticed? We aren’t exactly the only mages in the city.”

“True, but we are the only  _ dwarven _ mages in the city.” Ed tapped his boot against the floor. “Humans don’t feel the magic in these stones as keenly as we do, and I  _ highly _ doubt any leaf-munching elf would bother to notice.”

“Fair points. I suppose that would mean whatever is hidden here would be  _ more _ conspicuous if the wards were not here?”

“My thoughts exactly. Now, lets see what dirty little secret the White City is hiding.” Once again, Ed placed his hands against the stone, parting it with a low grinding noise to reveal a dark passage heading into the mountain. “By Durin’s finely trimmed beard, I believe we are in business,” he grinned.

Taking a small mechanical lantern from his pack, Ed coaxed it into a soft glow before heading down the tunnel, brother in tow.

“Brother?” Al’s metallic whisper made Ed jump slightly.

“Yes?”

“Have you considered that the null field might be strong enough that we wouldn’t be able to sense whatever incredibly powerful magical object might be down here until it’s too late?”

“Well, not until just now.” Ed hesitated slightly before continuing forward. “I am sure it will be fine.”

“Whatever you say, brother.”

After a concerningly long time the tunnel finally opened into a larger chamber. After a moment of intense listening, Ed slowly turned up his lantern to partially illuminate what was undeniably some sort of ritual chamber.

“Well well, what was this naughty shopkeeper up to?”

The ceiling was high enough Ed’s lantern didn’t quite reach it through the gloom. Ed walked into the room, slowly turning to illuminate runic circles littering the floor, most empty but some with broken chunks of stone in the center. “What in Durin’s name…?”

“Brother.”

Al’s sharp tone yanked Ed around, and he hurried over to where his brother was kneeling, careful to avoid any circles.

“Brother, look at the inscriptions.” Swallowing his feeling of foreboding, Ed bent over to inspect where Al was indicating. Among the runes he spied a few that looked… familiar…

He jerked backwards, the ominous feeling swelling to a crescendo. “We should leave.”

“Should we tell-?”

“And let the Gondorian government know we can recognize necromantic ritual circles by sight? No thank you. Let’s just…” There was more than one door, which one had they come in? Ed inspected the floor, finding their sets of footprints the dust. “This way, let's get out of-“

_ Three _ sets of footprints.

Ed looked around wildly, grabbing Al’s arm. “Lets go  _ now,” _ he choked out, panic starting to bleed into his voice. Who was there, where were they, the lantern did not reach to the edges of the room, the very, very  _ unnaturally  _ dark edges of the room… Ed had the sudden feeling he’d misjudged just how strong the masking ward had been.

Al must have caught Ed’s tone, and he didn’t argue. Ed took the opportunity to run as fast as his boots could carry him, glad he could feel his brother close behind. He hurtled through the stone opening into the shop, stumbling over the boxes strewn over the floor in his haste to get outside. He paused at the opening to the outside, looking back to where his brother was closing the gap he’d made.

“Lets go,” he hissed, “we don’t have time!” What if whoever or whatever it was caught up, they needed to get out-

And then Al was there, and they were outside, and working together they sealed the shop wall again, leaving no sign of their work but a slight wrinkle on the stone. Ed slumped against the wall, trying to calm his pounding heart.

“Brother, what-“

“Let's talk back at our room.”

Al nodded. “Very well. Do you need a minute?”

Ed took great gulps of air, trying to get a handle on his heaving lungs. He needed to increase his training, one wild sprint and he’d been winded; what would Teacher say? “No… I’m… Good.” He took a deep breath and straightened. “Lets go.”

They strolled back onto the street as casually as possible, keeping watch for any guards. They were a good way back to their lodgings when a figure came into view approaching from the opposite direction, their Gondorian uniform visible under the dim glow of the streetlamps.

Simply smile and nod, maybe they would pass by-

“Lovely night for a stroll, friends.”

Damn. Ed nodded and gave an impatient wave, hoping to continue unmolested-

“Say, you’re those dwarven mages Colonel Mustang brought in, aren’t you?”

Maybe Mahal would smite him where he stood, and Ed wouldn’t have to deal with this. He gave the blond man a surly glance and made a non-committal noise.

“Y-yes, that’s us!”

Shut up Al shut up Al shut up-

“Fascinating! You know, I didn’t think dwarves  _ could _ do magic, but I suppose the Colonel found a way to prove that wrong!”

Murder is bad murder is bad murder is bad-

“Yes, we are very happy that Colonel Mustang invited us here! Now if you’ll excuse us, we were just going to turn in for the night-“

“Oh of course, don’t let me keep you!” The man gave a cheerful grin, but something about it left Ed more unnerved than before. He started to turn away, grateful this was over.

“Oh, and just one more thing.”

Ed paused, something in the man’s voice raising the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You may want to be wary of where you find yourself walking. This city can be dangerous if you don’t mind where you step.” The guard’s grin abruptly sharpened, and Ed felt a sudden whiff of a chilling, malevolent magic. Then the guard was turning away, waving over his shoulder as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “You two take care now.”

It took all of Ed’s self-control to resist breaking into a dead run back to their rooms, forcing himself to hold a steady pace until the door shut behind them. After clicking the lock securely in place, he felt trembling overcome his limbs, and he collapsed onto a bed.

“What the  _ fuck _ was all that!?”

“I don’t know, brother, are you sure we should not alert someone-?”

“Please tell me you felt it.”

“Felt what?”

“Just now, with that guard, please tell me I didn’t imagine that.”

Al was silent for a long moment. “I thought  _ I _ had imagined something, but if you say you felt something as well..?”

Ed rolled over and groaned into a pillow. Their first day in Minas Tirith, and he already wanted to leave and never return. He rolled onto his back again.

“What did we stumble into? What craven creatures stalk these streets? Is Mustang aware? Is the steward? Where does it end? That man, or whatever he was, looked like a soldier, was that a trick? Are all the soldiers corrupted with fell magic?”

“You don’t think that guard was human?”

“I don’t know!” Ed thumped an arm against the bed. “That magic, the closest thing to it I’ve felt is…” A vision of a door shrinking closed and dark hands grasping flashed through his mind.

After a minute Al spoke up. “The good news is that if whoever it was wanted us dead, they likely had ample opportunity.”

“Did you see the footprints too?”

Al nodded. “As we were leaving.”

Ed sat up. “You are likely right, but I don’t know if that eases my heart.”

“Do you think we should leave?”

Ed hesitated, but only for a moment. “No. We have an opportunity to search the knowledge of the most powerful city of Men, and I’ll be damned if I let some vague misgivings get in my way.”

“I’d hardly call this ‘vague.’”

“True, but you were right, if they meant us harm they likely would have already struck. And what do I care if Gondor is riddled with darkness, it’s not my circus.”

“How pragmatic of you, brother.”

“Thank you.”

“My only concern would be the heavily touted ‘crusade against darkness’ Gondor claims to be running.”

“Ha, they must be terribly incompetent if they can’t even rid their capital city of the stuff.”

“That is my concern, what does it mean for the rest of Middle Earth if something evil has already taken root here?”

Ed shrugged. “I wouldn’t be terribly put out if the empires of Men crumbled, it isn’t like they haven’t done so on occasion in the past.” He chuckled darkly. “It’s not even a very  _ good _ empire. What kind of kingdom occasionally feels the need to eradicate entire parts of itself?”

“You mean the Ishvalans? That was certainly a sordid business.”

“Say, that campaign was supposed to be part of that ‘crusade’ as well, was it not? The culture was supposed to worship dark gods and all that?” Ed narrowed his eyes, vision focused some way past the floor.

Al spoke up pensively. “Are you having second thoughts on the truthfulness of those claims?”

“Maybe. With what we discovered tonight, something seems off about this whole Gondor affair.” Then Ed shook his head. “Still, it isn’t as if it’s my problem. We just need to get what we came for and leave.” His last word was punctuated with a yawn.

Al sighed. “You should get some rest. Will you be able to sleep?”

“I will, knowing that my brother is watching over me,” Ed grinned, lightly tapping a fist against Al’s arm. Ed could feel his brother smiling through his armor.

“Good night, brother.”

“’Night, Al. See you in the morning.” With any luck, tomorrow would be very much better.

~~~

“So tell me, why did you not kill them?”

“You see, the armored dwarf smelled veeery _interesting._ _I_ don’t think there is anything inside.”

“Intriguing. Perhaps they are worth watching, then.”

“May I mention we would have likely discovered that  _ without _ them uncovering a ritual chamber?”

“Tssssss, so it was  _ my _ fault they somehow managed to see through the wards? None of the other mages have noticed! Who thought inviting  _ dwarves _ in was a good idea? First day in the city and those brats are already sticking their noses where they don’t belong!”

“Perhaps in the future, you should put up better wards.”

“Quiet you hag-“

“Children, calm yourselves.”

“Of course, apologies Father.”

“Hmph.”

“These dwarves may be useful to us. We shall just need do keep an eye on them, as tonight’s events clearly show.”

“Can I eat them?”

“No.”

“Aww.”

~~~

“So this is Gondor.”

“The south of it, yes my lord.”

“So that must be the Cape of Belfalas there.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And the White Mountains past there.”

“Yes.”

“Splendid. Shall we see what treasures the kingdoms of Men might have hidden away?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Wonderful. I can nearly feel them waiting for me.”

“My lord please that is your third lembas today.”

“So it is. Shall we be off?”

“After you, my lord.”


	3. Rumors and Hearsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elrics grow weary of the Gondorian library's terrible organization and strike out for greener pastures, and take up the hobby of chasing after serial killers on the side.

“This is idiotic. Minas Tirith is idiotic. No, all of Gondor is idiotic. No, all the empires of Men are-“

“Would you like to stop our search for the day, brother?”

Ed dragged a hand over his face from where he sat with feet resting squarely on the stone table. “I think I am ready to burn this place down and myself with it.”

Al set aside the scroll he’d been attempting to parse. “I too have been starting to think our search here might be futile. We’ve been at it a month, but even with the progress we’ve made on these mismanaged shelves we are no closer to our goal.”

“You also think if there was something here to find, we’d have found it by now?”

“I do think so.”

Ed let his head fall backwards with a groan. “I do so hate abandoning what _should_ be the richest source of magical lore in all the cities of Men, but what little we _have_ found makes scant sense or blatantly contradicts any texts we’ve found elsewhere!” He thumped a fist against the wooden chair. “I admit what little hope I had for this library is nearly extinguished.”

Al turned his helm to the small pile of dubiously useful texts they’d managed to accumulate with a metallic sigh. “I suppose it is to be expected that there not be very many books on dark magic, but I had thought there would at _least_ be books on how to undo it or fight against it.”

Al had lowered his voice to avoid attention, but likely needn’t have bothered; Mustang had stopped sending soldiers to check in on the brothers after an incident wherein a certain guard continuously interrupted them with requests to gaze upon the seemingly limitless miniature portraits of his wife and daughter he carried around in a veritable luggage.

The colonel had, of course, stated that the discontinuing of the brothers’ military guardians was due to his trust in them. And besides, he had continued, he could hardly be expected to spare a man to watch them forever, this clearly had nothing to do with a recent near-assault a certain dwarf may or may not have attempted.

“That’s the most frustrating part! These people supposedly _love_ destroying dark magic, so where are the instruction books?” Ed threw a tome on the table in a cloud of dust. “And the books on dark creatures are a joke! Shades and barrow-wights are _not_ the same thing!”

“Maybe the other books we’ve read were incorrect?”

“With how this library is kept up, I’d sooner trust rotting scrolls in some shepherd’s basement than anything here. This one even tried to argue that wraiths are mindless when there are _clear_ accounts of wraiths acting as generals and rulers in previous ages.”

“That _was_ thousands of years ago, those accounts may be inaccurate.”

“No mention of the spells that create wraiths either, by how this book goes on you’d think that wraiths just _happened_ without the aid of enchanted blades or jewelry.”

“Maybe the books in our father’s collection were wrong too?”

Ed seemed to be undergoing an intense internal battle between the nearly equally abhorrent ideas of defending his father or the capital city of Gondor in any way. In the end the more recent aggravation won out.

“Are you seriously defending this trash heap?”

Al shrugged. “I am simply saying we don’t know-“

“Excuse me, Elrics?” A perpetually nervous voice spoke up behind them.

“Oh, Falling-man or whatever. What does Roast Fingers want now?”

The guard gave a small cough. “He, um, wants to see you in his study. He will be leaving for what could be an extended trip, and wants to brief you himself.”

“He’s leaving? Finally, some good news.” Abandoning the messy table, Ed sprang to his feet and strode off towards the archives entrance, his brother following shortly after with a nod to the guardsman.

“And it’s ‘Falman,’” the guard called weakly after their retreating backs.

~~~

“So what I am hearing is that a member of a small and persecuted people in the Gondorian empire that you tried to destroy survived and now seeks revenge? Good for him.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter, Elric. This man is a dangerous dark mage and is threatening citizens of Gondor-“

“Citizens like the Ishvalans were?”

Both Mustang’s eyes twitched. “I know you do so enjoy disparaging whatever dysfunctionalities of Gondor you can find, but the point here is this is a dangerous man, and I need to do my duty to protect innocent people. I may be gone for some months, depending on how difficult this man proves to hunt down. In the meantime, you are welcome to continue your stay, at least until the Steward sees fit to kick you out.”

“Hmph.”

Al gently elbowed his brother. “We wish you luck with your mission, Colonel, and thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

“’Luck’ is precisely it, you are bringing your lieutenant, right Toasty-hands? I would hate for you to perish the first night out of the city.”

“Tch. Your concern is much appreciated, Elric. Fear not, I will be bringing her and many of my most trusted men.”

“Wonderful, that is truly a load off my mind. Glad to hear there will be at least _one_ competent human around.”

“You must have many preparations to attend to,” Al cut in, “We shall leave you to them. Safe journeys!”

“Thank you. Until we meet again, Elrics.” Mustang sounded rather long-suffering.

The brothers left as Ed muttered something about something being “too soon.”

Once they were down the corridor, Ed spoke again. “Well, as convenient as it would be to not have him around, I’m not sure how much longer I want to stay in this city anyhow.”

“Are you sure? There is still much we haven’t searched in the library.”

“I know, I just don’t… I don’t know. I think we’re wasting our time here.”

“We could go back to our original plan.”

“Mmm true, though…” Ed trailed off, attention captured by nearby soldiers’ conversation.

“…half the village!” Proclaimed one of the men, who seemed to be in the middle of a dramatic story.

“But where were the guards? That town was not so small as to have no men stationed there,” another soldier inquired.

“All dead!”

“What!?”

“I heard from someone who’s contingent made to stop in that town on their journey, and he said all of our men there had been slaughtered!”

“By what!?”

“The townsfolk they could get to talk told of a dark sorceress of incredible power, who let the guards surround her before killing them all! They say she merely raised her hand aloft, and none of the men even tried to stand against her as she cut them down where they stood! They say she was robed in red with her face cast in shadow and carried a wicked spear, and on her finger shone a mighty ring of power!”

“Are you certain the man said ‘red robes?’” A soldier who had been quiet spoke in a low voice.

“I am merely repeating what I heard, why do you ask?”

The soldier who had spoke was silent a moment before she continued. “I’d heard some tales from the older soldiers not unlike what you describe, only the sorceress had black robes.”

“This has happened before? When did they see her?”

“Many years ago, they had been telling tales from their youth. It may not be the same witch.”

“Listen to you all, believing in children’s tales. How can you be sure it wasn’t merely a marauding warg that killed them?” A skeptical voice spoke up.

“From what the man said, many of the townsfolk that survived refused to speak at all, and only sat, eyes vacant and skin pale. That to me speaks of sorcery; a wild animal attack would not cause such a state.”

“Hmm, I am not sure I am convinced.”

“Think what you will, I for one shall never take any far-distant post without at least one mage of Gondor present. I am just glad to think a Watching Stone will soon be established there, so those poor townsfolk will know some peace.”

Ed turned away as the conversation seemed to have exhausted its usefulness, and the brothers continued walking, Ed pensive.

“What a sordid tale. What did you think of that story, brother?” Al sounded sympathetic to the unfortunate villagers.

“I think it likely mostly exaggeration; if everyone nearby to the sorceress was killed, how could they tell she was wearing a ring?”

“Is that the only part of the story concerning to you?”

Ed shrugged.

“Maybe the ring glowed?”

“Hmm maybe.”

When his brother did not continue, Al began to gently prod. “Is something on your mind?”

After a moment Ed gave a non-committal handwave. “Maybe. This whole affair still doesn’t sit quite right with me, and while I am still unsure why, hearing that tale today did not help.”

“Maybe we should leave for a change of scenery, and we can come back to continue our search here if it suits us?”

“I reckon you’re right. Truthfully I have been ready to leave this place for a while. The cities of Men are awful, no running water to speak of, let alone hot water, and no sewers! They wallow in their own filth here, it’s a travesty.”

“I hear you, brother. Where do you think we should head next?”

Ed took a small journal from his coat’s inner pocket and consulted the pages of rumors they had acquired on possible locations of powerful magical relics. Something catching his eye, he paused in flipping the page. “Say Al, where did Mustang say he was heading again?”

“Calembel, why?”

A slow smirk spread across Ed’s face. “Well then, brother, perhaps we should burden ourselves with his company a while longer.”

Al bent down to glance over his brother’s shoulder at the page in question. “Are you sure you want to go there? We’ve only recorded a single, rather old rumor of anything in that area.”

“True, but the less common the rumors, the less likely anyone else has beaten us there. And besides,” Ed’s eyes went distant, “I confess myself curious about the Ishvalan.”

“Even though he’s reportedly evil?”

Ed scoffed. “I barely trust how he’s been painted, and besides,” he paused and glanced around before lowering his voice to answer in barely whispered Dwarvish. “<Maybe he’ll be able to help us where the library failed.>”

Al hesitated, then nodded, helm impassive as always. After a moment he continued. “Think we should tell anyone we are leaving?”

“And give them a chance to stick us with the bill for our stay? No thank you.”

“Brother that is dishonest.”

Ed shrugged. “We’ve done worse since we got here,” he said flippantly.

“Fair point. I suppose I should be thankful you did not get us thrown in jail our first week in the city.”

“Hey, the steward _asked_ for a demonstration!”

“And you did not need to turn the hallway into an armory pointed straight at him!”

“Ugh, it turned out _fine,_ his stupid sword cut them all down anyway.”

“Had they decided to arrest you I would not have pled your case, brother.”

“Thank you for your undying loyalty.”

~~~

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“We made reservations to travel with this caravan yesterday,” Ed answered the merchant irritably.

“I don’t think I see you on the list.”

“Look under ‘Elric.’”

“Edric Elric? That strikes me as an odd name for a halfling.”

“Why you-!”

“We are dwarves, ma’am.” Al restrained his brother, smothering his indignant yells with a gauntlet. “I am his brother.”

“Ah I see, Alric, is it? Very good, right this way. You can ride in that ship over there. Just be warned, armor costs extra.”

“Hmph. Fine.”

“We’ll be leaving soon, and our assigned guards will be meeting us shortly. You boys are lucky, Fairruin himself will be traveling with our company.”

“You don’t say, ol’ Firehands himself? How splendid.”

The merchant gave Ed an odd look at his tone before excusing herself to finish with some preparations.

~~~

“You! What are you two doing!?”

“Oh _hello_ Colonel Roy Mustang, fancy meeting you here!” Ed lounged on the deck of the small vessel, smirking at the mage standing over him as the company made its way along the river from Osgiliath. It had taken the colonel laughably long to notice them, seeing as one brother was dressed in bright red and the other in a full suit of armor.

“Don’t you have a library to be searching? And as I’ve _told_ you, my name is Arn, not ‘Roy-‘”

“Yes yes, and I’ve told you I don’t use elvish, so I’ve affectionately shortened your name from ‘Royal.’ It’s a sign of my friendship.”

The mage stopped grinding his teeth long enough to reply. “Is that so. And you still haven’t answered my question, why are you following me-“

Ed gave a flippant wave. “We have business in the area. Salutations, Lieutenant.”

Hawkeye gave a nod in greeting from behind the colonel at the same time a distant splash sounded.

Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you two can take care of yourselves, but until the threat is taken care of, that area will be dangerous. Could your business not wait?”

“Nay. And besides, isn’t the Ishvalan only targeting Men of Gondor? We are likely safer than you.”

“All the same-“

“ELRICS! ARE YOU JOINING US AS WELL?”

Ed’s eyes widened to resemble a trapped animal’s as a familiar booming voice rang out. Before he could bolt, he and his brother were pulled into an embrace by an Armstrong who looked to have just swum over from another boat.

“...I’ll leave you to it, Elric.” As Ed struggled to unpin his arms, he saw Mustang begin to walk away with a satisfied, “I trust you’ll have every bit the difficult time I will” expression.

“Nrgmph.” Amidst his squirmings Ed silently reassured himself this was for a good cause, and no amount of suffering (or dripping wet overenthusiastic giants) was too much in pursuit of their goal.

~~~

“So this is Calembal, huh?”

“Unimpressed, Elric?”

“Eh, it’s not bad for an aboveground city.”

The biggest town in the region, the cobbled streets were relatively bustling even in the late evening.

“We’ll be off then, Colonel. Thanks for the escort! I am sure we would have never made it without you.” Ed gave a mocking salute across his chest. “Good luck finding your man.”

Mustang gave a disgruntled wave. “Thank you, Elric. He probably isn’t even in the city anymore, but we’ll find him eventually.”

Ed and Al turned away to find an inn for the night. “Think we’d have any luck finding him first?” Ed muttered.

“I don’t know brother, he might still be dangerous to us-?”

A sudden commotion behind them brought their attention around, and, turning to look, they were greeted with Mustang face down in the dirt and Lieutenant Hawkeye standing over him, firing her crossbow at a man dodging behind a nearby cart.

“That didn’t take long,” Ed remarked as he and Al rushed back towards the scene of the battle.

“Where did he go!” The cries of the searching soldiers filled the air as the brothers caught up to Hawkeye picking Mustang off the ground.

“Congratulations, Colonel, that must have been record time.”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“What happened?”

“He charged from that alleyway, hard to tell if he was waiting for us or got lucky.” The lieutenant filled them in, not breaking her businesslike tone as she clipped several pouches of crossbow bolts to her belt.

“He went straight for the Colonel?”

“Indeed. Perhaps he is specifically being targeted. Colonel, you should stay behind.”

“I will do no such thing!” Mustang tried to brush himself off but got his gauntlet caught in his cloak. “Heed- My- Orders-“ Yanking his gauntlet free, he turned to his gathered soldiers. “Captain Armstrong! Take your men and watch the East roads! Lieutenant Hughes! You and your men take the North side! Everyone else with me! And you two-!” He pointed at the Elrics as his men saluted and began running towards their positions. “-stay out of this!”

Ed glanced at Al and could tell his brother was doing the same. “I will do no such thing,” he muttered under his breath.

He and Al circled South through the city, searching for the less populated areas Mustang would undoubtedly try to flush the fugitive towards. Ed kept his senses trained for any hint of dark or corrupted magic, in case the man had left any traces.

Word must have traveled fast of a disturbance, as most of the town’s citizens seemed to have gone to ground. Dashing from alley to alley, Ed at last caught a flash of a yellow tunic turning a corner in the light of the streetlamps.

“There!”

He and Al set off in pursuit, and rounding the corner Ed called out to the man, “Hey you! Hold up for a minute!”

The Ishvalan glanced back at Ed’s words before increasing his speed and dodging down a side-passage. Ed could feel Al’s judgmental glare.

“What, I thought it was worth a shot!”

“Truly you are a master strategist, brother.”

Ed did not have the breath to reply as they resumed their chase, but when they exited the side passage there was no sign of their quarry.

Ed took a moment to try to recover his breath. “You go- _gasp_ -that way, and I’ll take the North.”

Al nodded, and the brothers went their separate ways. Ed still couldn’t feel any hints of magic, so he focused on continuing to breathe as he sprinted through the nearly deserted side streets. Stupid humans and their long legs. However, the look on Teacher’s face were she there to see him falter kept him going, until he heard a distant scuffle the next alley over.

Rounding the corner, he could see the silver Gondorian garb and distinctive gauntlets of the Firehand Mage, along with the yellow of the Ishvalan’s tunic. Where were Mustang’s men, had he been so rash as to go off on his own? And he didn’t seem to be keen to use his magic, perhaps due to the inconvenient proximity of a dry goods vendor cart, the owner fortunately nowhere to be seen.

Ed picked up his pace, too far away to affect the battle as of yet and keen to prevent either man from killing the other; he still had some questions for the white-haired fugitive.

At the other end of the alley the Ishvalan feinted left, then hurled a bag of flour from the market stall towards the colonel to send it exploding in a powdery cloud next to his head. Mustang stumbled for a second, coughing in the choking air, but a second was all it took for the scarred man to close the distance and slam the mage’s head into the wall with one hand.

“Hey!” Finally in range, Ed sent a barrage of weapons sprouting from the ground even as he felt a surge of magic from the other man. Oh no he didn’t-!

The Ishvalan was forced away from Mustang by the wave of weaponry, dodging out of the path of half a dozen spears to let the mage’s body slump to the ground. Ed drew abreast of the colonel as the fugitive retreated to another alleyway.

“Hey Flamefingers, are you all right?”

After a moment the man stirred, leaving Ed with an unexpected sense of relief. “Arise, your battle awaits! What’s wrong, does the fabled Mage of Flame fall so easily?”

“Desist, Elric, I am alive.” Mustang rose to his feel, only relying on the wall in small measure.

“I felt him call upon some power, did he do anything to you?”

“I do not know, I-“ Mustang’s expression changed, and he held out a hand and appeared to concentrate. “No…” He snapped his fingers a few times, but Ed couldn’t see even a hint of a spark. “No!”

“Colonel! Are you all right?” The lieutenant had finally caught up, her bow at the ready.

“That bastard did something to me! I cannot call my magic!”

Ed felt a brief chill, followed immediately by curiosity. Now this was something hitherto unheard of. He’d known magic could be masked or even dampened, but to remove it completely? Was it permanent? What was the mechanism, did it deal with the soul or the body, would it work on Dwarves as well as Men-

He shook himself out of his ponderings. First things first, he’d have to catch the rogue mage before he could ask questions. “I’ll go in pursuit!” He called back to the Gondorians as he ran off in the direction the Ishvalan had disappeared.

“Mind yourself, don’t do anything foolish!” Mustang yelled after him.

Ed ignored the colonel; as if he were one to talk. Now where would he go if he were a human trying to hide? The man likely hadn’t gone far, from the reports he’d heard the soldiers discussing, the Ishvalan wasn’t one to leave a target alive. He’d be back for Mustang now that the man was vulnerable.

He conjured a pillar of stone to carry him to a nearby roof; he needed a better vantage point. There was Al, with a group of soldiers heading to the colonel’s location. He resisted hailing his brother, not wanting to give away his position. Surveying the deserted alleys in front of him, he spotted a flash of movement in the shadows. Aha!

Racing across the rooftops, he channeled his will through his hands into the eaves overhanging the alley, manifesting a spiked ramp from the building walls. He leapt down the ramp into the narrow walkway to land in front of the scarred man, bringing him up short.

He glared at Ed with the red eyes of his people. “Stand aside, Dwarf. My quarrel is not with you, though that may change if you continue to aid those murderers.”

Seemed the man was willing to trade words. “Now, let’s not be hasty. What did you do to the colonel, anyway? Stripping away someone’s magic, that’s not something you hear about every day.”

“Tch. Gondorian worms are not fit to be part of Ishvala’s great symphony, so I severed his ties to the music too sacred for his filth. And now, when he dies, his soul will rot in darkness where it belongs.”

Ah. Well. “Did you now?” Hopefully Al had heard his magic and would be here shortly. Still, Ed had felt dark magic before, and this man’s magic had been different, regardless of whatever Gondor might say about it.

Ed wondered how righteous he’d feel about that. But he was being impolite to the serial killer. “You have a name?”

“No.”

Oh good. “Suit yourself, I suppose. Mind if I call you ‘Scar?’ Seems fitting for some reason. No? Excellent. So, Scar, Gondor seems to think you deal in dark magic, have anything to say for yourself?”

“Magic is the perversion of Ishvala’s will. All of it is unnatural and abhorrent.”

“…Fairly certain you used some yourself just now, buddy.”

“I do what I must to rid the world of those who have committed crimes against my people, and against Ishvala. Now stand aside, I will not ask again.”

Lovely. Ed readied his power; looked like this was getting nowhere. “I’m afraid I can’t let you through here. What happened to your people was wrong, but more killing isn’t the way to fix things.”

“Your opinion matters little to me if you’ve chosen to stand with those murderers of innocents.” At his final words Scar lunged forward, moving to close the distance between them much faster than Ed had anticipated.

Still, not as fast as Teacher. Ed ducked to the ground beneath the man’s outstretched arm and placed his hands against it, calling forth a stone pillar to pummel Scar sideways into the alley wall.

Now Scar was on the defensive as Ed summoned metal chains out of the stone, seeking to bind the man dodging with agility belying his size. After a few far too-close calls, Ed finally managed to entwine his opponent’s leg, and shortly thereafter had him restrained completely against the stone wall.

Ed couldn’t hear any Gondorian soldiers close by. Yet. “Now, if you don’t mind,” he got close to his immobilized foe, “I have a few questio- GUH”

Something slammed into the side of his head, knocking him sideways. What-!? Did the Ishvalan have an accomplice?? He stumbled back into his balance, readying his fists to confront this new threat dancing around the alley. A very small threat. A hobbit- no, a child??

Something glinted in their hands, and Ed dodged out of the way of a wave of knives aimed at the Ishvalan. Now what, not an accomplice-?! Ed’s thoughts were blown to bits along with the metal chains cocooning Scar as the girl activated her magic.

_A child mage??_ Ed thought, but then the girl’s elaborately braided hair shifted. _An ELF????_

He was still caught gaping when her shrill voice rang out.

“Are you all right, Nirwë-ser?”

So she called him “Scar” as well, then. Ed regathered his wits as the Ishvalan picked himself up from the remains of his restraints. Oh no they didn’t, no way was he going to be beaten by some pebble-sized _elf-_

“Brother!”

Al’s voice called from the end of the alley opposite Ed’s barricade, and turning he could see his brother backed by several soldiers.

“Too many, we shall need to retreat, Nirwë-ser!”

“Not so fast, you’ll still need to get by m- ARGH”

Before Ed could aim his next attack, the elf girl threw her knives skyward, the bright metal gleaming in the dim light as the they reached their zenith before unleashing a blinding flash. By the time Ed was able to blink the spots out of his eyes, his brother was by his side, and the two fugitives had vanished into the evening.

~~~

“…stupid elf girl… I’ll get her back… dumb knives…”

“Are you all right, child? That Ishvalan was certainly frightening, would you like a blanket-“

“He’ll be fine,” Alphonse swooped in to the herbalist’s rescue. “He’s just sore over losing a mage battle.”

The herbalist gave Al an odd look before returning to the colonel’s side, bringing fresh calming tea.

“I didn’t lose the battle,” Ed grumbled, “the little twig cheated.”

“But brother, look on the gilded side.” Al dropped his voice lower. “If the girl is also a skilled mage, she may also be able to help us!”

Ed wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I would sooner traverse from one end of the land to the other in pursuit of answers than ask an Elf standing right before me.”

Al sighed. “I know you may have your hang-ups about this, but perhaps consider, she could. Help. Us?”

“Hmph.” Ed crossed his arms. “She’s likely already left town anyway.”

“Then we could always _look_ for her.”

“The only reason I’ll be looking for her is to break all her knives to smithereens-“

At that moment Hawkeye entered the medical house, saluting across her chest with a “Sir!”

Mustang nodded in return. “What’s your report, Lieutenant?”

“A man matching the Ishvalan’s description was seen riding out of town to the West, along with a young child.”  

“That would be them,” Ed muttered.

“Should we pursue?”

Mustang looked pensive for a moment. “Nay, not yet. I’ve still not fully recovered my faculties, and I won’t send my men after him without my support.”

Ed sat up straighter. “Has more of your magic come back?”

Mustang nodded, holding up a hand to show a small flame dancing across his palm. “That sorcerer couldn’t steal it from me completely.”

Ed was glad to see the Ishvalan’s spell wasn’t permanent; that would cause some problems if he got on the wrong end of it.

Mustang clenched his fist over the spark. “I underestimated the power of his dark magic; I will not make the same mistake twice.” He turned towards Ed after the other made a skeptical noise. “What, Elric, surely you don’t seek to deny this is dark sorcery?”

Ed shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “S’only that his magic didn’t feel corrupted to me as d- as you’d expect dark magic to feel. That, and his rather vocal hatred of magic itself.”

“Why does that matter?”

Ed leaned forward again, inspecting his metal fingertips. “I’ve done a lot of reading, Colonel, and from what I’ve seen, accounts of the cults of Morgoth and Sauron certainly didn’t show them shying away from magic; quite the opposite in fact, both dark masters often granted sorcerous powers to their followers.”

“So? This sort of power strikes me as exactly the sort of thing those dark lords would see fit to bestow upon their idolaters. What are you getting at, Elric?”

“I would merely like to state that this man seemed to believe that magic, _all_ magic, was an affront to his god. Seems to me that the Ishvalans must be quite a breakaway sect if they do worship the dark masters of old.”

“I’m not sure I like what you’re implying.”

“Like I care.” Ed reclined back and held his hand up to examine the surface in the light. “Like it or not, I think someone in your little government is incorrect about things here, a circumstance I assumed you would be interested in.”

Mustang did look pensive as well as annoyed, something Ed was willing to count as a win. “Something to think about, Match Boy.” He rose and stretched. “I trust you are well guarded for the night, so we’ll be heading to our lodgings.”

Al likewise rose with a few creaks. “Good luck with your search tomorrow, if you’ve recovered.”

Mustang raised an eyebrow. “You two aren’t going to stick around to see the excitement?”

“We have our business to attend to in the next town over. Besides, all the exciting people left town already.”

The mage shrugged. “Whatever you say. Mind yourselves out there,” he called after them on their way out the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed waved over his shoulder. The two dwarves made their way to their rooms to prepare for their trip to Dinadab on the morrow.

“Think we’ll get lucky this time?”

Ed shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. We both know this isn’t exactly the most efficient plan, but there’s enough random ancient relics around that we should be able to find _something_ helpful. Elves just _loved_ making enchanted trinkets and releasing them into the wild like the irresponsible airheads they are,” he finished with a mutter.

“Very true, and if we find something that isn’t helpful to _us_ we could perhaps use it to barter goodwill from an elven nation and ask for _their_ help,” Al replied with a hint of patronizing cheer.

“...that is only our backup-backup plan.”

“Of course, Brother.” Al gave his smaller sibling a few pats on the shoulder. The two dwarves continued through the balmy evening to their lodgings.

~~~

“What sort of bird do you suppose a ‘devil’ is?”

“I’m not sure, maybe it isn’t a bird?”

“What other creature uses nests?

“Maybe it’s a rodent?”

“Hmm, perhaps. Now then, let’s see if there’s anything interesting in here, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mustang's title, "Fairruin" means more or less "Hand of Fire" in Sindrain; Ed is, of course, just terrible at being respectful to Mustang.


	4. Left In Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers visit a nearby town and find more than they bargain for.

“How far is the town supposed to be?”

Al pat his brother on the shoulder. “Worry not, we should be getting close.”

Ed adjusted his cloak under the hot sun, grumbling, “We had better be.”

“Of course, it was a tragedy there were no horses for rent in the whole of Calembel, the largest trade center for a day’s journey, full of merchants and caravans-“

“Yeah yeah I get your point, I suppose I’ll just suffer in silence.”

“…Brother, what _do_ you suppose the Ishvalan’s magic was?”

Ed shifted his pack. “I’ve been thinking about what Ol’ Scar said, about ‘severing ties to Ishvala’s music,’ and I might have some ideas.”

“Oh?”

“See, we know the effects of his spell, Mustang lost the use of his own magic, however temporarily. Now, Tourmeil’s treatise on elven magic maintains that their power is intrinsically connected to the ‘Music of Creation’ they believe shaped the world from nothing, and that the strong connection elves as a species have with that ‘music’ is what allows them to shape the world to their will. Elves are, of course, rather frustrating on the subject, as any of their writings take for granted the reader will just _know_ how to imbue whatever rope or craft with magical properties without bothering to include so much as a single instruction on the matter.” He sent a large rock flying with a well-placed kick.

“Yes brother, you’ve expressed your frustration with their writing habits at length.”

“And I could yet go on. Anyway, Tourmeil, together with other scholars, hold that most Human magic stems from elven ancestry, as humans are generally seen as less ‘connected’ to the aforementioned music. Therefore, our dear colonel probably has some pointy ears in his family tree, and his magic could be seen to be tied to the same source as elven magic.”

“So you think the Ishvalan- Scar- was accurate in his description of his spell, that it cuts off this 'music?'”

“I do. Another puzzle piece, the elves often call their deity ‘Illuvatar,’ a name not so very far removed from ‘Ishvala.’ If the Ishvalans indeed worship the same god, that could explain the root of Scar’s power.”

“Fair points. There is still the matter that Scar’s magic seemed to go _against_ the power of Illuvatar, if he cut another person away?”

“True. However, I believe that if the dark lords of old had the power to sever the ties of a living person to the music that underlies all elven magic, they would not have lost.”

“Hmmm. You also said he mentioned something about souls?”

Ed looked down, quieter now. “Yes, he implied he had removed the colonel’s connection to an afterlife.”

“…I do not know about you, brother, but that alone speaks to me of evil things.”

“I know, I know, I just… Well, Mustang’s magic returned, did it not? Surely that means his soul will still follow the ‘ineffable path’ elves and men seem to believe Illuvatar has set aside for humans?”

“…I hope so.” They walked in silence for a moment until Al spoke again. “…And what of us?”

Ed’s steps faltered slightly. “Well, dwarves are of Mahal, not Illuvatar. Scar’s magic shouldn’t be able to touch us. Theoretically, our souls’ link to Mahal and his halls should be safe.”

“…Brother, are we sure that’s where the gate led?”

Ed tried to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. “Let us… not speak of such things for now, we are nearly to the village, after all.”

“…Of course, brother.”

~~~

“…I suppose I thought I knew what ‘backwater’ meant but here I am having the true definition laid out before me.”

“It is kind of small, isn’t it.”

“Hmm. Shall we seek out the local tavern?”

“Of course, no better place to learn of local rumors.”

“…”

“…”

“Do you see a tavern anywhere.”

“No brother, I do not.”

They walked through what amounted to a collection of less than a dozen buildings, searching for anything resembling a tavern or an inn.

Ed thought he saw something furtive move in the shadow of a nearby building, but staring at the place yielded nothing.

“Hey you!” Ed called out to a farmer-type watching the newcomers warily. “Where can a dwarf get a drink around here?”

The man looked Ed’s impressive absence of height up and down with a raised eyebrow before seeming to decide this child must be asking for the sake of his armored fellow. He jerked his head at an unmarked building across the way.

Circling the dingy building, the brothers came to a stairway leading down to some sort of basement door, the pathway lined with an assortment of ne’er-do-wells under a filthy sign carved with the words “Devil’s Nest.”

~~~

They shouldered through the leering loiterers into a dimly lit interior filled with the most… _colorful_ collection of characters Ed had ever seen. He’d known there were settlements of orcs in the region, but he’d hardly expected to find any in a Human town. And those weren’t even the strangest folk, did that man have _horns?_

He supposed this meant they were in the right spot. Ed could feel the attention of everyone in the grimy bar on him and Al, as much as they all played at continuing to banter and drink. Ed ignored their eyes as he followed Al to the counter, relying on his brother’s bulk to clear a path.

They reached the counter, where a tattooed woman with eyes just shy of human was making a show of polishing a scuffed pint glass. Ed made to force her to acknowledge him.

“Hey you-“

All at once the sparse light of the place extinguished, bringing with it an unpleasantly familiar chill. Ed heard a brief scuffle at his elbow and reached out for Al, only to feel empty air.

“HEY! AL WHERE ARE YOU”

“Brother-!”

Al’s voice sounded far away, before abruptly cutting off.

“NO!”

Ed was preparing to transform the floor into an ocean of swords when the darkness began melting away, dull light returning to the room to illuminate the tavern’s patrons regarding him with taunting gazes, Al nowhere in sight.

“Tell me what you bastards did to him or I swear I’ll-“

“Master… Dwarf.”

Ed whirled to face the new speaker, a sharp-eyed human with a thin sword at his waist.

“If you would follow me, the master of the house wishes to grant you an audience. I would suggest you accept, ‘specially if you want to see your- brother, is he? -again.”

“What’s stopping me from leveling this place to the ground and all of you with it?” Ed challenged.

The man gave a cruel smirk. “Nothing, assuming you would be content to collect an _empty_ husk from the rubble.”

Ed’s mind raced; what did they know, how could they know, they must know _something._ This was too risky, he’d have to humor them for now, at least until he could neutralize whoever the source of the dark sorcery was.

He clenched his fists, replying through gritted teeth, “Lead the way, scoundrel. Quickly now, before I decide to rearrange your face.”

The man seemed unperturbed by Ed’s murderous glower, and he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as he replied, “I would like to see you try, whelp. Now, if you would _kindly_ follow me.”

Ed resisted the urge to attack the man outright and stalked along after him into the labyrinthine underpassages of the tavern’s back rooms.

If the villains had hoped to disorient Ed with a long trip through winding passages, they would be disappointed; he planned to show these ruffians that dwarves were not so easily cowed. Upon entry to a lantern-lit room, Ed heard a languid voice call out a greeting.

“Welcome, welcome! You know, you two have made this _so_ much easier for me, I had expected to drag you over all the way from Calembel, but here you are, come right to my doorstep! I must thank you for saving me a great deal of trouble.”

Ed stopped, staring at the man (was he human?) responsible for kidnapping his brother. Al looked unharmed at least, even chained up as he was, which abated his rage just enough to ask himself what in _Durin’s name_ this guy was wearing.

His shoes appeared to be some kind of silvan style, completely out of place, and that was the most _normal_ part of his outfit. Ed didn't want to know what you had to do to leather to get it _that_ black and shiny, to say nothing of his shirt, some sort of sleeveless weirdness that wasn't wool, but linen sure as steel didn't do _that._

And what kind of open mockery of a vest was that? Ed felt personally affronted by such a waste of fur and fabric.

The man looked to be wearing glasses of dwarven make, delicate and precise instruments that this kidnapping bastard was clearly using as a _fashion accessory_ . And were those bracelets _leather?_ Who uses leather for bracelets!? Well, aside from elves, but they were already irredeemable.

A red tattoo on the back of the man's hand caught his eye (what far corner of the land did he have to go to get _that_ done), before he focused on the silver band on the man's finger.

Ed stiffened, detecting a faint but unmistakably familiar waft of cold, evil magic rising from the jewelry.

The man (although Ed was far less sure of that now) chuckled, obviously following Ed's eyes. "Like the tattoo? My _host_ got it done in Nurn. Not that he's around to enjoy it anymore."

_Host...? Was this man Not the ‘master of the house?’_ Whatever, Ed had felt enough of this particular type of magic, and now especially in conjunction with a ring, he thought he could hazard a guess at what it meant. "You- you're a wraith!?"

The man only grinned wider at Ed's accusation. "In the flesh," he replied, spreading his arms for a mocking bow.

Wait hold up, that was merely meant to get a rise out of the bastard, not to be serious!?

“What-“

“I suppose I don’t have to explain myself much further, if you’re already aware of what you’re dealing with. I’ll make this simple.” He laid a hand on Al’s shoulder, tilting his head forward to reveal pallid eyes glimmering ominously behind his glasses. Ed fought to keep from flinging himself forward, eyeing the array of miscreants lurking in the shadows around the room.

“You are in possession of something I want, and I _always_ get what I want,” the apparent undead abomination continued, smug superiority dripping from his voice.

“Oh yeah? Who are you, anyway?”

“Ah yes, forgive me, I am getting ahead of myself. I am Roklem, Lord of Avarice-“

“WHAT?!”

“Huh?”

“Your name is ‘Greed the Greedy?’ Are you in _jest?!_ Of all the stupid-“

“I’m impressed, Master Dwarf, you know the Black Speech of Mordor?”

“What!? No! That’s Elvish!”

‘Greed’ stared at him for a moment, evidently at a loss, before shrugging and resuming his vapid smirk.

“Whatever you say. And you are the Brothers Elric, yes?”

Ed’s patience continued to wear thin. “And what’s it to you?”

Greed gave a sinister grin and shook Al so the chains clanged against his hollow armor. “Word of a pair of dwarven mages has traveled far, mages seeking out power they shouldn’t be, and who seem to have a liking for never removing their armor.” He hooked a finger under Al’s helm and flipped it into the air over the dwarf’s complaints, casually inspecting the empty helmet before clanging it back into place.

Ed was surprised he hadn’t cracked a tooth with the pressure of his clenched jaw. “What are you, some kind of spy?”

“Those who search out rumors may find themselves the subject of a few instead.”

“Fine, whatever. What do you want?”

Ed caught a near-predatory gleam in the wraith’s unsettlingly pale eyes that caused him immediate regret for asking.

“What do I want? I am the Lord of Avarice, I want everything! I want the jewels under the earth and the stars in the heavens! I wish to possess the earth and sky itself, and all that lies therein-“

“Oh, desist your useless prattling! Are you a simpleton? What do you want with me and _my brother!”_ Ed growled, patience nearly extinguished.

Greed chuckled at Ed’s outburst. “Of course.”

Ed could hear restless movements from the shadows around him.

“I want to know how you’ve done it.” Greed waved a hand at Al. “You have placed a whole, unbroken consciousness in this armor, and I want that secret. And you will tell me, lest I instead take apart your brother piece by piece until I find it myself.”

“YOU-“

Ed lunged forward, calling his magic to his fingertips. Greed’s hand shot up as well, and Ed could feel freezing magic move to surround Al in swirling shadows.

Ed stopped short, the risk of unknown, dark magic breaking him from his headlong sprint. If this monster hurt Al-

“Now, let’s keep our heads, yes?” Greed lowered his hand, and the threatening magic dissipated. “There will be no need for fighting if you cooperate.”

“Like I would cooperate with you! I’m not going to entreat with someone who deals in threats and evil sorcery!”

“Hmm, unfortunate. I suppose, since I am feeling generous today, I could offer a trade. You have been seeking information, absolutely greedy for it yourselves, perhaps there is something I know you would trade for, a secret for a secret?”

Ed blinked. Was the wraith offering him a _deal?_ What could he know, there was nothing he’d… Ed glanced at Al, who was watching the proceedings impassively.

“I want the knowledge of how to return my brother to a body of flesh.”

“Huh?” Greed blinked, looking between the two brothers. “Is not his state most enviable?”

Ed clenched his fists so tightly he could feel the strain in the screws of his mechanical arm. “I’ve told you what we want, now you tell me if you have anything suitable to offer or we _will_ be leaving.”

“Gahaha! Very well, if you insist. I do know the knowledge you seek, and I can instruct you on obtaining a new body for your brother. Now, do we have a deal?”

Ed’s mind churned; he had such knowledge? Was this too good to be true? There had to be some other caveat. He was a _dark_ mage, was he lying?

“How do I know you are telling the truth?”

“You are hardly in any position to question me, brat. And besides, I dislike lying, so if I ever did, I wouldn’t waste it on _you._ ”

“Very likely, wraith! Evil _always_ lies!”

“Perhaps. And if _I_ don’t, what does that make me?”

“Tch!” Ed, surprisingly enough, still did not like this. “Why do you want this secret, anyways?”

“Why, for me, of course. An immortal body, impervious to most harm? Who possibly _wouldn’t_ want that?”

Ed felt his rage rise again, did this dullard think for an _instant_ that his brother’s existence was something to _want,_ that his brother didn’t _suffer-_

“No one should want this!”

Al seemed to have beaten Ed to the emotional outcry.

Greed turned to Al, an eyebrow quirked in lazy inquisition.

“This isn’t immortality, it’s a cold prison-“ Al cut off, looking away.

Ed felt a pang in his chest, the same one he got whenever he watched his brother leave food untouched, or when he awakened knowing his brother could not rest. He raised his voice as well.

“To think someone should _want_ to give up what they have, a body of flesh that can eat and sleep and feel, in the shallow pursuit of immortality is _insulting!_ Go back to playing in your filthy bar and let my brother go before I grind this place into the earth!”

“Ghehehe, you forget, brat, this body of mine isn’t exactly _living._ And since I’m feeling charitable, I’ll let you in on another little secret: I am already no stranger to a ‘body’ of metal.” He held up his left hand again, his silver band glinting in the smoky light.

Ed felt some pieces falling into place. “Wait, when you said ‘host…’”

“Ha! Sharp boy! This little ring is the ‘real’ me, so perhaps you can imagine the allure of a metal body that can move for itself without needing to bother with pesky mortals. I normally must wait _decades_ to lay claim to a body once someone starts wearing my ring. I got rather lucky with this one though, he did manage to drink himself into oblivion mere months after finding me.”

The gears turning in Ed’s head made nearly audible clanking. “But- wait- That’s not- Wraiths don’t work like that, they’re corrupted humans! Not- not-! How-?”

Greed was obviously enjoying his confusion. “Maybe some wraiths, but I think you can already see that I am _exceptional._ ”

Ed was not so overcome with warring emotions he could not perform an expert eye-roll.

“So you see, my esteemed guests, whatever concerns _ordinary_ persons might have do not apply to me, and I can assure you this information will be very valuable to _me_. As I have said, I am willing to trade-“

“Oh please, I will not parlay with one such as you! Wraith or no, you’ve kidnapped and threatened my brother! I will simply beat what I want to know out of you, and there’s nothing you or your lackeys can do to stop me! Now, brother!”

On his signal Al threw aside his chains, melted away while they talked, and swung his gauntlet to Greed’s head. As Ed fashioned his hand into a blade, he heard the wraith tell his men to stand down. Ha, fool! Ed lunged, slicing towards Greed’s undefended wrist; he’d see what truth there was in the wraith’s statements soon enough.

His blade struck something solid and unyielding, sending unpleasant shivers rebounding up his arm, somehow cold despite the metal. He stumbled backwards and could see Al doing the same, clutching his own hand. Was even he feeling pain-?

Greed stood immobile, unharmed by their assault. The chill in the air deepened as Ed beheld a sight most ghastly. Where the wraith’s arms had been passably human, they had transformed; pale bones shone through flesh seemingly made of polished darkness, and a glowing skull now grinned through a face of shadow, luminous eyes regarding the brothers with haughty mockery.    

The wraith’s laughter echoed around the room as Ed readied his fists and his magic again.

“A little more than a parlor trick, hmm? I normally wouldn’t bother, this sort of magic tends to attract unwanted attention, you know, but I’ll make an exception since you asked for it so _nicely._ Can’t you see, you cannot lay a scratch upon me by any means you now possess? Must you engage in something so futile? Will you not consider my offer instead of wasting my _valuable_ time? You will only find defeat down that road, little ones.”

“LITTLE- YOU- I’LL FIND A WAY TO BEAT YOU INTO SUBMISSION IF I HAVE TO BATTLE YOU ALL THE WAY TO THE HALLS OF MAHAL HIMSELF-“

“Brother, please!”

Ed paused, looking down at Al’s arm across his chest.

“Brother,” Al continued in his well-honed ‘talk-my-idiot-brother-down-from-doing-something-stupid’ voice, “we should at least _consider_ his offer.”

Ed head the notes of a quiet, tired desperation in Al’s voice and felt his anger evaporate. “Of course,” he muttered, lowering his fists.

“Excellent, _someone_ here has some sense-“

“But not now.”

“Huh?”

“We would like some _time_ to mull it over, _away_ from so many tempting targets for my poor, tired fists. We will return on the morrow.”

Greed might have been considering arguing, but after a moment the shadows under his skin darkened before resolving into flesh, color flowing down his face again to reveal a lazy smirk, an expression Ed was rapidly beginning to theorize was the bastard’s favorite.

“Very well, I accept your terms. We will be waiting. And watching,” he grinned, lantern light glinting off unnaturally sharp teeth.

Ed gave a disdainful glare before turning towards the exit, glowering at the leering ruffians until they parted. At the door he paused, remembering something.

“One last thing, if you are a wraith, how be it that you are not invisible?”

“Brother, you cannot just ask-“

“Ha! That query has been eating you for some time, hasn’t it? As you have undoubtedly noticed, I am no _ordinary_ wraith-“

Ed fought the urge to attack him again.

“-however, I owe my current state to my luck with my vessel. The mind faded long before the body had a chance to, leaving me free to maintain its more flesh-bound state, even if it is at the cost of some power. Very useful for going outside in the daytime, something I doubt my siblings will ever be able to enjoy.”

Ed narrowed his eyes at Greed’s gloating words. “Siblings? Pray tell?”

The wraith chuckled. “You seem to have met them already, you have the mark of their magic about you. Who was it, the witch, Ëmoro? No, you don’t seem to have done battle, perhaps the imbecile Ëlua? Eh, it matters not.”

‘Lust?’ ‘Envy?’ These all seemed to be named for depraved impulses, fitting for dark creatures, Ed supposed. “Wait, who are they? What do you know? This has to do with Gondor, doesn’t it? What’s going on? Speak!”

“Ghehehe, demanding, aren’t you? I’d be happy to oblige, provided you _pay_ for it.”

Urge to punch… smug face… rising…

“I will say that I parted ways with them some centuries ago, so my information might be of lesser value, but who can say?” The light flashed off his glasses at his lazy taunt.

“Hmph. Again, we shall _consider_ dealing with you. For now, we bid you good day.” Ed turned and flounced from the room behind his brother.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” Greed called after.

Ed didn’t bother to grace that with a response. He began navigating the passages; he could remember the way out well enough, and he certainly wasn’t going to give these bastards the satisfaction of asking for directions.  

Hearing movement behind, Ed could see the swordsman from earlier following at a less-than-respectful distance, along with a small entourage of ruffians. Wonderful.

“We don’t need an escort, _thank you._ ”

“Pay us no mind, we are simply returning to the front rooms. Not everything is about you, dwarf.”

Ed glared at the swordsman, but it did seem that the barkeep from earlier was with the group. Deprived of a completely plausible reason to start a fight, Ed took another route to burn off his irritation.

“Why do you follow Greed? You know he’s a wraith, and people like that are only going to use you as tools to get what they want before throwing you away!”

The dark-haired man chuckled, and a few of the others joined in.

“You are clearly unaware of how things work here, whelp, so you get a pass this time. You call him ‘Greed,’ does that not tell you everything you need to know?”

The tattooed woman chimed in. “What other wraiths might be like is of no consequence; Master Roklem is not one to merely throw things away. Ever,” She added a tad ruefully, as the party passed a side room packed full of what appeared to be random junk.

“Hmph. Still, are you so depraved of character you do not mind being employed by a creature of darkness? Why not just leave?”

“Ha, this suits us just fine, fear not.”

“Why, are you all criminals?”

“Not _all,_ ” the swordsman smirked.

“Most of us were military, so make of that what you will,” the barkeep gave a lazy shrug.

“Wait, of Gondor?” Ed glanced over her strange eyes and past to a hulking man with horns sprouting from his forehead. “I was unaware the Gondorian Army recruited people who weren’t human.”

“Oh, we certainly used to be.” They grinned at Ed’s naked confusion.

“What…”

“You are familiar with the extensive magic use by the military, yes? Someone on a high tier decided that the best way to increase the might of Gondor was to emulate shapeshifters.” The swordsman checked his pipeweed pouch as if merely discussing the weather.

“What, like Beornings? But how…?”

“Magic, of course. They never got very close, but those of us that survived obtained some decidedly animal features.” The barkeep’s eyes flashed as she passed a torch.

“’Survived!?’ And you let them warp your bodies with magic??”

“Didn’t have much choice, most of us were half-dead or worse when we were brought in.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Eh it’s not so bad now, but perhaps you can see why we left,” the swordsman smirked. He caught Ed inspecting him and grinned broader, showing off elongated canines. “I’m part warg, if you’re curious.”

“Don’t listen to him, his form is merely combined with a farm dog’s.”

“Hey!”

Ignoring the growling, the barkeep continued, “I myself have gained attributes of a serpent. Very useful for escaping.”

Ed was skeptical of their claims, but there was no denying the very cow-like horns on the large man’s head. “And the mages of Gondor did this to you?”

The swordsman shrugged. “Some of them did, anyway. I’d be careful if I were you. Minas Tirith is a terrible city to get injured in.”

Ed wasn’t sure how to answer that.

Al tried to reassure his brother. “I’m sure we’d be fine, it would be unlikely they would try anything, us dwarves have a greater resistance to magic.” The half-shifters stared at him until the irony set in. “Ah-“

“Of course we’ll be fine. We’ve been hard pressed to find anything more dangerous than ourselves,” Ed interjected, with a pointed look at their unwanted entourage. It appeared they had at last reached the bar proper, and Ed turned to give a mocking bow to their “hosts.”

“Thank you so much for your _hospitality_ , we’ll be sure to come again.”

The swordsdog looked insufferably smug. “Oh, you surely will.”

“Hmph.”

Ed made a heel-turn and marched resolutely out the door, keeping a hand on Al’s arm in case of further shenanigans.

Once out into the lengthening evening shadows, they made their way to the edge of town, Ed keeping an eye out for any skitterings amongst the buildings.

“…Now what, brother?”

“Ugh, I am not sure, this place doesn’t even have an inn, although I doubt I would want to stay there if it had.”

“We could walk back to Calembel?”

“Nay, we’d just have to walk back here in the morning anyway.”

“We could, I don’t know, brother, rent a horse?”

“I have an idea, we could make a dwelling in those woods over there to spend the night. We have enough food to get by, and I doubt we’ll see trouble from the orcish settlements if we’re far enough.”

Al’s long-suffering sigh echoed in his helm. “I suppose that will do, if you _must_ be difficult.”

Ed ignored him, already striding off as fast as his legs would allow across the grass.

Ere the night fell they had carved out a small cabin half-sunken into a hillside, with elaborate anti-intruder spikes and fencing etched with intricate inscriptions of skulls and dragons. The inside, having been under Al’s direction, was a tad more practical.

They sat, Al on his chair and Ed on his stone bed (just like home). After a time, Al broke the silence.

“Well, I suppose we _did_ find a ring of power.”

Ed groaned and lay back on the bed. “Indeed, but it just _had_ to be more complicated than it was supposed to be.”

“Fret not, we may still find what we seek.”

“True, though I do not like dealing with professed dark creatures. And there is also the matter of how this ‘Greed’ connects to what seems to be lurking under the surface of Gondor.”

“I suppose today did confirm our suspicions that all is not right with Gondor. Wraiths and human experimentation…”

“Those both go rather against Gondor’s public vow against darkness. Unless they were all lying, of course.”

“I don’t know, brother, this does fit with those events our first night in Minas Tirith. And what would they have to gain by telling us these things, if they are not true? It is not as if we are servants of Gondor, or beholden to the crown.”

Ed clanked his fist against the bed. “I don’t know, maybe it is all part of some grand nefarious plan on Greed’s part.”

“I didn’t get the impression he was capable of such things.”

Ed chuckled. “True, a backwater bar is a very far cry from conquering nations. I wager he has spent all those hundreds of years doing nothing but carousing with whatever down-on-their-luck vagabond stumbles in.”

“A Witch King he is not.”

“…Think we could take him?”

“Hmm, I think it might be difficult, and his magic did seem to be potent, but if we manage to restrain him he would have little defense.”

“Agreed. Perhaps his fell armor is weak to fire.”

“Hopefully we will not have cause to find out tomorrow.”

“True. I suppose we’ll have to see what tomorrow brings.”

~~~

The brothers left their shelter in rosy morning light. As they returned the cabin to the hillside from whence it came, Ed thought he could detect uncharacteristic silence from his brother.

“Al, is everything all right? If you’re worried about entreating with the wraith, we don’t have to go.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” He looked up to the clouds. “You know what they say about red sunrises.”

“Bah, superstitious nonsense. If there’s been blood spilled it is likely from a bar-side tussle.”

“Hmm.”

Ed did not feel like admitting that he himself felt uneasy; there _was_ an odd feeling on the air. And then they broke from the trees, and Ed had the fleeting thought that there might be something to the superstition after all.

Dinadab was swarming with Gondorian uniforms, and as the brothers watched, a plume of smoke curled its way upward through the crisp morning air. They began running towards the beleaguered town.

“Hey-!” Ed began to call out, but a half-dozen crossbows directed at his chest interrupted him.

“State your name and business!” One of the officers barked out.

“Sir! I think it’s those dwarven mages Fairruin had!”

The officer glanced at the man who’d spoken before returning his gaze to the brothers. “Are you the Elrics?”

Ed and Al both nodded vigorously, hands in the air.

“What is your business here?”

“We’re seeing the area,” Ed replied irritably, “we came to Calembel with M- the Colonel. What happened here?”

“Soldiers, lower your weapons! There’s no need for that now,” a jaunty voice called over.

“Lord Steward!” The soldiers obeyed, the crossbows lowering to face the ground.

Ed stared. The Steward, here!? This _couldn’t_ be a coincidence. “Steward Bradley! What happened here?”

“We have eradicated an infestation of the forces of darkness. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Ed stiffened. “What, that weirdo in the bar? We didn’t think he was a threat, holed up in a basement as he was.”

“Hmm. You must know we can’t be too careful, it is unwise to leave such things to fester until they consume innocent lives. I merely came here to assist Colonel Mustang in his search for the Ishvalan sorcerer, but we just so happened to pick up a signal of dark magic in this locale. It is fortunate we arrived before you, or any other, were harmed.”

Ed glanced to the burning building, and to the very, very small group of surviving village inhabitants gathered by the soldiers. “Right.”

“And if you are concerned about the ring, worry not, it is destroyed.”

Ed turned to look at the steward in shock.

Bradley twirled one of his swords, as if in answer to Ed’s unasked questions. “These blades can cut many things ordinary swords cannot. Have no fear; the fell ring of power will trouble this town no longer.” He returned his sword to its sheath. “Now, what _are_ you two doing all the way out here?”

Splendid, the _last_ thing Ed wanted was to explain his motives to the ruler of Gondor. What was _he_ even doing here?

“We followed Colonel Mustang to Calembel, and decided to explore the area a bit while we were here. The Ishvalan fugitive didn’t come this direction, so we felt it was safe to do so.”

“And did you _find_ anything in your exploration?”

“Hmph. No, nothing useful.”

“Elrics,” Bradly began, brows darkening, all traces of joviality gone, “did you by any chance trade information with the dark sorcerer holding sway over this establishment?”

Ed nearly stepped back, then steeled his voice. “No, we made no such exchange. Now if you’ll excuse us, we will be heading back to Calembel, since it looks like there is nothing more to see here.”

Bradley held his gaze for a long moment before his face suddenly brightened. “Of course, don’t let me keep you,” he smiled. “However, now that you’ve seen the sort of evil we must face to keep Gondor safe, perhaps you would be interested in joining the fight against it? I trust you will be returning to Minas Tirith soon; I would much like to discuss such things with you when you do.”

Ed didn’t answer, so Al spoke up. “Of course, Lord Steward.”

Bradley nodded. “Very good. And mind what company you keep in the future, wouldn’t want you labeled as an enemy of the Free Peoples, now would we?” He turned to go. “A few of my men can ride you back to Calembel,” he called over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Yes, thank you Lord Steward!” Al called over Ed’s grinding teeth.

One highly uncomfortable ride (for Ed) later, the brothers reconvened in their lodgings.

Once the door was shut, Ed drove his left fist into the wall.

“Brother, don’t fret, we can try another rumor.”

“Heh, yes of course, another rumor…”

“…I suppose this means we’re never returning to Minas Tirith again?”

Ed shuffled over to collapse onto the bed. “I truly know not… What have our chisels struck against, Al? What grotesque shape lies beneath the surface?”

“I do not know, brother,” Al whispered.

Ed took a long breath. “I think,” he sighed, “Our priority is still restoring you to your body. Whatever this, this _thing_ is, it doesn’t concern us yet, and we may avoid its grasp if we’re careful.”

Al was silent awhile before replying. “You are tired, brother, you should get some rest.”

“Ha, of course, you are right. Good night, Al.”

“Good night, brother.”

~~~

**Omake: No Man**

Ed’s patience reached its limit. “Stop standing there with that idiotic expression and show me what you’ve got, wraith!”

Greed held up a hand. “Oh no, I don’t make a habit of fighting children.”

“I’ll show you who’s a child-!”

“Or dwarves.”

“What?”

“Or women, or elves, orcs, or halflings either, really.”

Ed did some quick mental math. “So that leaves… Are you telling me your tastes in opponent are so specific as to only include adult, Human men? Is this some sort of strange cowardice…?”

Greed gave a lazy shrug. “The prophecy did only specify that ‘no man can defeat me,’ and I am loathe to take chances.”

Ed could only stare blankly. Prophecy…? What sort of drinks did they _have_ at this tavern? He supposed the important thing here was that he hadn’t been divinely disqualified from whooping this idiot’s ass, and started rolling up his cloak sleeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tolkien's extensive worldbuilding did manage to leave some gaps, so I'm going to build my au house in the giant blind spot behind the universe's definition of magic.


End file.
